


File Attachment

by saltyynoodles



Category: Porter Robinson - Fandom, Shelter the Animation
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationships, Gen, Oneshot, Post-Ending, Shelter the Animation - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyynoodles/pseuds/saltyynoodles
Summary: (set after the ending of Shelter)Shigure just wants to see his daughter one last time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From the beautiful art piece that that is Shelter ^^ Thank you Porter for making me cry and feel inspired to write :)
> 
> >> Disclaimer: I don't own Shelter or its awesome music :,)

Smoke was in his lungs— he couldn't breathe, the one source of his oxygen seemingly gone.  _ Rin _ . His precious daughter . . . . Shigure’s fingers trembled at the memory of inserting the cords into her fragile form, her screams echoing in the empty laboratory.

It was like standing over that ominous hole in the ground those years ago, as dirt was shoveled over the smooth black coffin . . . at least then he hadn't been alone. 

Even now, the room seemed oddly empty, only fumes remaining from the module’s launch, the spacecraft he'd labored upon for months finally gone.  _ It’s gone now. She’s gone. _

Shigure swallowed as he looked at the bundle of cords and softly beeping computer. 

_ Daddy won't you come with me? What about you? Are you leaving like mommy? _

_ You are leaving to salvation.  _

He didn't want to leave Rin— God, after her death, it was all he could do to hit  _ launch _ . But already the things he'd done to his child was bordering on the limits of science, and his idea— no his barely feasible dream of an idea— wasn't even assured to work.  _ But _ . . . If it gave Shigure the opportunity to see his daughter one last time—  _ not crying but smiling. Even better, forgetful of even me and the horrors of this material world _ . 

He would give his life for it.

A full memory upload— untested and unconfirmed in its success, it was the only way for Shigure to have so much of a chance to see Rin again. He would be a changed man, static and almost fully computerized— but it would be enough. 

Typing at the keyboard, he quickly programmed the upload to attach a letter he’d set to send to her when she reached a later age. Perhaps by then she would find it in herself to forgive her pitiable father. Shigure blinked, realizing he was crying.

_ Gone.  _ It hit him like a truck, the realization that this was his literal last chance to ever see Rin again before she was alone— forever. But physically, he had already lost her. He slumped over his workstation, quiet gasps wracking his body. This  _ had  _ to work. 

He fumbled for the cords, feeling the cool metal begin to touch his nape. He took a deep breath, shaking refusing to leave his body. His shirt hit the ground as he methodically stripped. Shigure’s mind flashed back to just hours ago, feeling the nerve connectors slide into Rin’s supple back. His fingers burned with guilt and he bit back a hiss when the icy cords cut into the space between his upper vertebrae. He fumbled with the next, but soon enough, cables connected him entirely to the machine. 

_ Deep breaths. _ Shigure gave one last shaky breath, then hit enter awkwardly, movements obstructed by the machinery. The green light on the dashboard turned white, and his consciousness faded. 

He slipped into blessed sleep.

His mind quieted and there was finally silence in the laboratory.

* * *

 

Hours later, a coworker cracked open his facility, “Mr. Shigure— one hour until the celestial body will—” the man’s voice cut off. The man in question was slumped on a chair by his computer, still, unnaturally so.

The man rushed forward, but he already had a feeling of what had happened. He felt Shigure’s pulse—  _ silence _ .

His life was in fate’s hands now.

* * *

 

Rin brushed tears aside, rereading her father’s letter again and again. It had added color back to the world— a simple filter of clarity that made everything  _ better _ . Who knew how therapeutic it was to have a chat history? To have a  _ history _ . 

_ “Thank you.” _

A soft  _ ping _ echoed across the grassy field. For a moment, she thought the tablet had broken, then realized it was the  _ new message  _ notification. How absurd that a simple noise could bring such joy. 

Hesitantly, Rin tapped the orange message, reading the description—  _ one file attached.  _

“SHI-GU-RE,” she read out, slowly and carefully. She only remembered little bits of her schooling before her memory went to her ejection into space, and the hiragana was rough to translate.  _ Shigure _ — she distinctly remembered— 

Who was Shigure?

Rin hesitantly tapped on the file. She say back hard as a shockwave circled from the tablet and multicolored pixels assembled in front of her, a shapeless mound of color forming until it began arranging into something recognizable. A person. She shuffled back, her body shaking without any reason. She glanced to the stylus, her hand no where near it— never before had the computer created something— or rather,  _ someone— _ without her instruction . . . . The form was Him. 

The swing flickered in Rin’s mind and lights flashed behind her eyes. She hadn’t built that swing either. She clutched her head as pain burst like fireworks. It hurt— her neck, her  _ spine _ . The man— Shigure. 

“Dad . . .” Rin breathed, hesitantly reaching out to the man from her flashbacks. “Dad. Daddy!”

She could remember running to him, playing in the playground so long ago. She could recall how the sand always tangled up in her hair. They'd laughed and had fun. Why had those times ended? 

The image of Shigure smiled sadly, wearing the same grey sweatshirt and black pants from her memory. Her hand touched him and her mind ached with the effort of trying to  _ remember _ . Real— was this even real?

_ Something was there that day. _

(There was just so little time after you were born) 

“Is that really you?” Rin voice sounded husky to even herself, the world— was it even real?—perfectly capturing the sound of her unused voice. “Dad—”

As if unfreezing, Shigeru moved forward, embracing her. His form— something that had once felt so supporting and solid— was shaking.

(I don’t know how much love I managed to pour into raising you after your mother died . . .)

Rin trembled, her eyes already burning again. An odd rumble erupted from Shigeru, a weak chuckle mixed with strangled tears. He gently touched her hair, dark eyes softening, “you changed the color.” She never thought of how unnerving it would be to see her dad cry.

(But your smile kept me going ^_^)

“Dad . . .” despite the fierce, almost unbearable, aching in her chest— from joy or the relief of  _ no longer being alone _ , she didn’t know. She couldn’t stop calling out to him, holding him in the tightest embrace, never wanting to let go. Rin said she hadn’t cared about being alone, but now that it came up to it, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

(I would have like to come with you, but I couldn’t. I wanted you to forget everything and move on . . . I knew you’d be alright)

“It’s going to be alright now— I’m here,” Shigeru murmured, rubbing circles on Rin’s back. He was distantly reminded of all the times he had gently coaxed her back to sleep after the nightmares. He silently wondered if she still had them, even in the dream world. 

(But you’ll get lonely, and remember)

“It must have been hard, for all these years . . .” Rin remained silent, gently tapping the tablet, turning the sky to a star-filled night. Even if the words escaped her, she wanted to show her father all the wonderful things she had created in this world. In the world he had made for her. 

(I know you’ll grow strong, and read this letter some day)

Shigure’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. Even though I seem like I’m truly here . . . my connection to this world— to this place . . . it’s different than your’s.” He messed up his black hair by running his fingers through it, a habit he’d picked up after her death.  
(I really wish we could have spent more time together)

“I won’t be able to be here forever. Not in the way you remember me.” Shigure stood up and they made their way to the large oak with the home-made swing. He pushed it idly, lost in thought. “I didn’t have enough time— I wasn’t able to perfect this. There’s no way  _ to _ perfect it anymore. I can only hope it’ll work for you— even after I’m gone.” He gave a weak smile, one Rin easily saw through.

She stared at him, silently, frozen. Even this paradise wasn’t meant to last. Shigure’s face seemed paper thin— tired.  _ I’m not lonely. I- this doesn’t bother me. _ Tears reawakened in her eyes— her walls had shattered— the lies didn’t work anymore.

(I’m sorry)

She couldn’t find it in herself to muster any hate or emotion towards the entity that was her father. Rin just felt an icy emptiness . . . _is this sadness?_ _Regret?_ The sensation took her back to that windy day on a hill over her grave, when Rin was just a little girl. If only running back into her father’s arms could fix everything just like before.

(You were too young back then, too young to understand what they meant. So let me repeat . . .)

“My final words to you . . .” Shigure spoke hoarsely.  He paused and embraced Rin. She finally, completely and utterly, broke down, huge earth-shattering sobs wracking her, each heaving breath like another gulp of air wrenched from his lungs. They stood like that for awhile.  _Time, time—_ Shigure had always felt like a man desperately clutching onto minutes, the sense of panic only emphasized by the looming rock in the sky. He'd never get to watch Rin grow up anymore, and yet there was a strange, oddly sentimental feeling of pride welling up within him. _Seven years_ . . . some parental instinct in him simply felt unbelievably satisfied with how far she’d come— a pleasant change from desperation at the end of the world.

Shigure looked up at the stars and let out a contented sigh.  _ There's a lot of things I wanted to say, and more things I wanted to tell you. But for now, I'll just have to say this— _

“I'll always be watching you. Even when you feel alone, or sad, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me— and find comfort in that.”

It seemed almost perfectly timed.

They stared up at the stars and simply felt joy in each other's company but then—

Somewhere in Earth’s orbit, a dark, lone spacecraft was gently tugged out of orbit, out of communication range. 

There was a smile exchanged and Shigure hugged Rin one final time, murmuring something.

" _Thank you._ "

The line went dead.

Pixels erupted in her arms.

 

_Silence_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> (the parentheses are from the translated version of the letter Rin received in the video)  
> My idea for why the spaceship going out of orbit was enough to displace communication (despite the fact we can receive data from far further), is that Shigure is relying upon some weaker, local signal, since most main ones would have been destroyed by the celestial object. That and the need for dramatic endings :)


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